


Unit

by balloonaloo



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Blood, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kipps and Lockwood are bros, Lucy and Lockwood are in denial, OC bad guy - Freeform, Other, Probably ooc, Quill is a good guy, Serial Killer, Strangling, Trapped in a house, after the Empty Grave, but its okay its just a fanfiction, but you know they are basically together, dealing with human beings, happy endings, hurt Kipps, hurt Lockwood, im so sorry if i got facts wrong, looking out, mention of a ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:39:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23760949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balloonaloo/pseuds/balloonaloo
Summary: Despite the provoking comments, the dirty looks and his presumptuous demeanor, Kipps was rather fond of Anthony Lockwood. They used to have a rocky relationship, but things had changed. Lockwood was his friend, now. And the last thing he wanted to see was the life being strangled out of him.Kipps always knew he needed to protect Lockwood. The members of his agency needed him more than they knew. They were Kipps’ friends, some of the first true ones in his life, and he yearned to keep them all safe. Physically and emotionally. So, he was infuriated that someone would try to ruin that.
Relationships: George Cubbins & Anthony Lockwood, George Cubbins & Quill Kipps, Holly Munro & Quill Kipps, Lucy Carlyle & Anthony Lockwood, Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood, Quill Kipps & Anthony Lockwood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Unit

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please excuse any factual errors, that would be a huge yikes, but I probably made a few. Before you read this, I don't know how to classify it, but if you're sensitive to blood, or description of injury, I would not read this story. I don't want to cause any problems! And this story takes place not long after the series. 
> 
> As a reminder to myself, all rights of Lockwood & Co belong to it's rightful owner.

**Disclaimer: the original story and it’s characters do not belong to me, it is only a non-profit fan work created out of respect for the original work. If I have crossed a line or written something that the creator prohibits, I will take this work down immediately**

* * *

  
Despite the provoking comments, the few dirty looks and presumptuous demeanor, Kipps was rather fond of Anthony Lockwood. For a long time, there was a deep-seated feeling of animosity between the two. Bitterness and former humiliation boiled inside of him, and the result of his emotions caused him to lash out at the boy whenever he saw the opportunity. He threw nasty comments, aiming for sore spots from Lockwood’s past and watching for any reaction — a twitch in his cheek, a flare in his eyes, _anything_ — to see if he had gotten to the person he had considered an enemy.

But his enemy turned into a friend due to unforeseen circumstances and a vast number of dangerous situations and ludicrous discoveries. Lockwood was strong, confident, gallant and kind. Kipps’ indignation and, though it was hard to admit, jealously, morphed into admiration and an accord. So, because of that, there were things that Kipps hated to see in Lockwood. His stubbornness, his impulsive behavior that caused him to act without a thought, running headfirst into a situation, and only occasionally did Kipps dislike his withdrawn disposition.

There were more, but specifically, those qualities riled Kipps up. That last one was the cause of many of their disagreements. He would attempt to confront him, and Lockwood would draw in on himself, find his composure and it would just irritate Kipps beyond belief. Other times, Lockwood would protect himself from emotional invulnerability by mild anger, and in rare situations, it would be an explosion of an intense argument. Kipps hated most of all when Lockwood would throw himself into a whirlwind of an exceedingly dangerous situation and end up wounded in some way afterward.

Lockwood _had not_ done something ridiculously stupid this time, but he was injured. Kipps as well, though. The redhead did not blame the boy for the situation they were in now, even though Lockwood seemed to be attracted to perilous scenes, because in reality they had both been utterly blindsided. If anyone should be blamed, it should probably be himself for his lack of suspicion. Lockwood had split everyone up, tonight. Short-staffed for the various cases that had come their way and the leader of his own company had asked Kipps to accompany him tonight. He had been intrigued by the case, always some interesting haunting that involved some bizarre and abominable ghost.

It had started, according to Lockwood, with a man coming into the office with reports of a ghost and one death. Upon approaching the house, Kipps had the impression that the house seemed practically normal. But the inside was another story. It was strange. The windows were barred, but it didn’t appear to be iron, there were massive locks on the doors. Kipps didn’t understand the client’s paranoia, nor the dismal decor. No pictures, just murky and rundown furniture, and the entire house was so dusty that Kipps’ eyes began to water. But who was he to question someone’s home layouts?

Despite all feelings of unease, which Kipps knew Lockwood felt as well, they wrapped up the ghost surprisingly easily. But upon discovering the source effortlessly, they both concluded that it did not belong _here_ or start at this place. Two and two were placed together. Unfortunately, their deductions were simply too late. Kipps was unsure of what happened to his friend in those next moments, he had been targeted first and taken out swiftly and quickly. There was a blow to his head he was aware of how he crumbled like dry cake.

Kipps had awoken sometime later in a very dimly lit room that he recognized as the basement — as he had ventured down here earlier in the night and found it eerily disconcerting. There was a sharp pain in his head, resonating from the side. He was regrettably aware of the sticky substance trickling down the side of his face. It felt as though there was a great fog within his head, and his eyesight seemed to blur out every time his heart beat. He spotted the unmoving shape of Lockwood next to him, from the caliginous, flickering lightbulb above him illuminating his form, he saw that Lockwood’s leg appeared a bloody mess, mangled and bent at a slightly awkward angle. His hair was flopped partially over his face, covering the source of a head wound similar to Kipps’.

Kipps sat up quickly, grieving the action immediately after as his head gave a painful ache. Once he recovered, the redhead moved slower, he shook Lockwood roughly.

“Lockwood, get up!” He demanded in a desperate whisper.

He was glad at that moment that Lockwood conveniently decided to wake, though Kipps didn’t know if he had been awake previously and was just lying there. A groan fell from the pale boy’s lips as awareness rushed at him. Kipps was relieved, but the apprehension of their situation did not relent.

“We need to get out of here. Your leg doesn’t look too good,” Kipps noted. “Do you think you can stand on it?”

“I’m not quite sure,” Lockwood responded, and then gestured for Kipps to stand.

Kipps did, albeit with difficulty and he stumbled as the world spun for a moment. Once he stabilized himself, he leaned over to help Lockwood; he gripped Kipps’ forearms, standing with great effort. He balanced all his weight on his right leg, keeping it off of his injured leg.

“The ghost,” Lockwood began. “as it seems, is not the only thing in the house that had the intent to hinder us.”

Kipps could pick up easily what Lockwood was implying. He hadn’t seen who had attacked them, but he understood quickly, the client, Mr. Norris Hampton. At least, that was what he had introduced himself as. He and Lockwood clambered over to the set of stairs near the edge of the large basement.

“Any clue as to where Mr. Hampton may be?” Kipps asked though he knew Lockwood was as lost as him.

“No. I don’t know what he’s planning, but I don’t want to stick around to find out.”

Kipps couldn’t agree more. But something was unsettling, obviously, about going upstairs. They had walked into a trap before, no doubt they were about to walk into another one. Both of their rapiers were missing, along with their belts and Kipps’ ghost goggles. As they were advancing up the stairs, the basement lights abruptly switched on. The vividly radiant light temporarily blinded Kipps and Lockwood, causing both to stagger back.

Something heavy suddenly slammed into Kipps. During the action, something sharp scratched his side. He careened backward and landed painfully on his back. He tensed his neck, managing to lighten the blow to his head. It still hurt, though, as it smacked into the concrete. His vision swarmed; he could hardly comprehend the face of Norris Hampton.

When Kipps has first met him, the man had looked middle-aged to elderly, but there had been something about his eyes that Kipps couldn’t quite place. Now, he could see that Hampton had the vigor and strength of a man in his early thirties. He had been skilled in whatever mask or makeup that he had used on his face, it was gone now revealing sinister eyes that betrayed slight crow’s feet, a long, pointed nose, thin lips that were curled into a perverse smile and his shaggy, dirty like hair fell limply over his head.

Kipps had to blink rapidly to see clearly. With the abundant light and sudden head injuries, he was having trouble. His movements were sluggish, he was grasping at Hampton’s wrists to keep them away from him, Lockwood’s rapier was grasped firmly in his hand, a glint of blood on it. The man in question seemed to be enjoying Kipps’ distress. The hint of Hampton’s sadism caused disturbance to twist in his stomach. Kipps faltered for a split second, and there was a swift, severe pain in his knee.

There was a shout and Hampton’s weight was suddenly lifted off Kipps. The ex-Fittes agent caught his breath, composure lost. His view of the ceiling revolved around him in a way that made him feel nauseous. With great effort and unusual lethargy, Kipps forced himself on his uninjured side, wincing at the pain that instigated an involuntary muscle jerk. Lockwood and Hampton were grappling with each other, and Kipps was rather disheartened to discover that the dark-haired boy was losing. _Any_ other circumstance where Anthony hadn’t been knocked upside the head and wasn’t fighting with one leg due to the other’s unfortunate marred state, he would have been able to take Hampton down easily. 

Lockwood had proven his talent in combat before. He had had no trouble in the past. But Kipps remembered this malicious man had overtaken Lockwood once before. And by the way that he was moving, there was something about Hampton that was throwing Lockwood off. It threw Kipps off, as well. See, the thing about Lockwood and Co, as well as it’s consultants like Kipps, was that they don’t generally deal with human beings as often as they do with ghosts. Sure, there’s clients and conversations, but the fighting is generally done with spirits. So, yes, there _was_ that. But there was something about Norris Hampton. The way he attacked was sickening and sadistic. This man, flesh and blood, wished for both their demises in a way that was painful and appalling.

Hampton suddenly lifted a foot and brought it down on Lockwood’s wounded leg. Kipps could see his equanimity replaced with sheer agony. His jaw was set in place to prevent himself from shouting, Kipps presumed, teeth grinding together. Blood drained from his already pale face, leaving him looking as white and chalky as a ghost. Lockwood’s hair was gripped, and his head was forced to the cold, cemented ground. Kipps watched in horror as Hampton’s body weighed heavy on Lockwood’s chest and his long, thick fingers curled around Lockwood’s small neck. Norris Hampton seemed to take pleasure in every finger touching down on Lockwood’s skin, and as he placed pressure, Kipps recognized exactly who this man was.

As aforementioned, they didn’t deal with the living as often as ghosts, seeing as it wasn’t their business. But Kipps _did_ keep up with the current news, whether that included living or not. Lately, it did. Sometimes, serial killings sound like things of fiction. But they _are_ real. Kipps knew that because he had dealt with ghosts of serial killers, some more disturbing than others. Guppy, for instance, was one that he would never forget. There had been a string of killings lately, involving strangling. Kipps had been surprised that the culprit had not yet been found, but as he found out himself, Hampton was very cunning.

Kipps’ mouth hung open in silent shock. Lockwood struggled, he held onto Hampton’s wrists, trying to pull them off of him, but it was to no avail. The man held Lockwood’s throat in a vice grip; and he was strong, it was as if Lockwood’s struggles meant nothing. He released the boy’s throat for a moment, and Lockwood inhaled sharply before Hampton clamped his hands right back down again. Kipps’ shock was suddenly replaced with fury.

His keenness for Anthony Lockwood? Yes, it was quite real, indeed. He respected him and revered him as a _friend_. And really, it had been like that all those years, since little Anthony beat him at that tournament. Kipps had just fought against the admiration and jealousy, of course. But now things were different and with everything they had gone through they _were_ friends and Kipps always knew he needed to protect Lockwood. Kipps (only somewhat) needed Lockwood, George needed Lockwood, Holly needed Lockwood and for goodness sakes, above all _Lucy_ needed Lockwood. Those were Kipps’ friends, some of the first true ones in his life, and he yearned to keep them all safe. Physically and emotionally. So, he was infuriated that someone would try to ruin that.

Over and over again, Lockwood looked to the brink of passing out and then he was allowed air only for the moment to be short-lived. Kipps didn’t understand why he was having trouble moving. Probably his injuries, he assumed a moment later. He must have some form of a concussion. There was no other explanation as to why he was having so much trouble at the moment. But he needed to pull himself together. There was one thing that helped center his thoughts: _if I don’t do something, Lockwood is_ going _to die_. Kipps looked around for some kind of weapon. He didn’t want to charge straight in, or else he may find himself in the situation that his friend was in currently.

Kipps quickly formulated a plan. Adrenaline fueled him. He took off his shoe, struggled to his feet, wary of his injuries, and rushed at Hampton. He proceeded to whack the man who was strangling his friend in the face. The man had turned to look at Kipps when he heard the noise of him approaching. When he was bewildered, Kipps reached for the discarded rapier and thrusted it towards the man, succeeding in wounding him in the shoulder. Hampton scrambled backward, gripping his shoulder as a light stream of blood seeped through his fingers. Kipps took the opportunity and hit him with all his strength with the end of the rapier. It seemed to do the job when Hampton fell to the floor unresponsive, though Kipps had half a mind to kick him in the face. Instead, he secured the rapier on his person and rushed over to Lockwood who seemed to have lost consciousness during the skirmish. 

“Now is not the time to be slumbering! Wake up!” Kipps hissed, patting Lockwood on the side of his face harshly.

When he didn’t respond, Kipps growled to himself and placed his arms under the unconscious boy’s armpits and interlocked his arms across Lockwood’s chest. He groaned at the pain in his knee as he dragged Lockwood towards the stairs, trying to move as fast as he could before Hampton woke up. Getting up the stairs was a difficult task. Kipps found himself exerting a lot of energy pulling both his injured body and the limp, deadweight of Lockwood up as well. When he made it to the top, he felt like collapsing or curling up to take a nice nap, it was unfortunate that he didn’t have either of those options. Kipps boosted Lockwood up, as he was slipping from his grip, and then with his foot closed the door leading to the basement.

He looked around frantically. Naturally, he headed for the front door, but he remembered the ginormous locks stationed on it. Hampton kept it secure from the inside and out, the only way, that he had seen, to unlock it was with a key; a key that he did not have. Of course, it was locked. Kipps’ head was foggy, he was having immense trouble thinking. He knew there was a way out somewhere. All the windows had been barred and covered by curtains from the other side so you could not see it from the outside, which he had thought was strange and suspicious but now understood the purpose. It was still _strange_ , to say the least. Now, a way out.

Lockwood’s head lolled against his chest, signifying his continued unconsciousness. His breaths came out shallow and scratchy, igniting anger in Kipps’ chest. He couldn’t be standing around. But his head _pounded_. He looked around the foreboding hallway and then decided to go back the way he came. Through the murk in his mind, he remembered the entrance to the small porch in the back of the house. He didn’t particularly like leaving a trail of blood, a mixture of Lockwood’s and his own, for the madman to follow when he woke up, but he had no choice. That thought drove Kipps to move and get out. He didn’t have much of a plan, except for currently escaping, for afterward if they made it out.

“I do wish that you would wake up,” Kipps muttered.

Lugging around an inert body was not how he had imagined the evening going. Though Lockwood was small in size and seemed to weigh practically nothing, his lanky body and deadweight were powers against Kipps, as he wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of strength and brawn himself. The two arrived near the back, he lowered Anthony to the floor and squinted his eyes as he inspected the large door leading to the patio. The door was guarded, just as the front was, but not nearly to the same magnitude. He considered the rapier. Breaking down a door was not a straightforward job, it required muscle. Or, if one was to do it with some form of weapon it would need to be something more constructed than the narrow sword, like an axe or something heavier. 

Kipps scuttled around to find something of use, deciding on an old, unseemly lamp. It was heavy enough in his hands as he slammed it against the wood with all his might. It was loud. On the brighter side of things, Kipps _did_ have a rapier and he was skilled in that form of fighting, injured or not. He was aware of Norris Hampton’s presence, unlike last time where he was caught off guard. Now, he only needed to steady his mind. If he could just get his blasted headache under control. He continued to strike the door with the lamp, succeeding in creating a dent and splintering wood in various places. It was quite therapeutic. Kipps managed to gain control of his frantic thoughts and stabilized himself. _You have been through worse_ , he reminded himself. Worse with ghosts, perhaps. This maniac would not best him. Hampton was talented in the art of _psychopath_ – and Kipps would admit fighting – but for goodness sakes, he had been to the Other Side. 

He was making headway on the door when he heard a groan from the floor, his eyes dropped to his side, while he attacked the wood, inspecting Lockwood. His eyes were half-lidded but open. He blinked a few times, eyebrows furrowed. Kipps turned his head back to the door. He was sweating up a storm, gritting his teeth at the work. If he could make a small hole, he may have an easier time getting it bigger. It wasn’t the best plan, but there wasn’t an assortment of options. 

“Quill,” Kipps could hardly hear Lockwood’s hoarse voice.

“I’m only _slightly_ busy here,” He responded snippily. 

“ _Quill_!” 

That was a warning. He stopped and turned just in time to see Hampton charging towards him with his rapier. It was like his brain had stopped working, the fog turned into a dense mist that covered his entire head and all he could see was Hampton. Lockwood suddenly had a burst of energy he pulled his rapier from Kipps’ person and deflected the attack. That was Lockwood, of course. It was as if his pain was forgotten, or at least he had covered it up with a thick veil of self-assurance and composure. His face was exceptionally calm, eyes steady and lips drawn into a thin line. Kipps was grateful for the epinephrine rush that Lockwood had suddenly had. With him standing in front of Kipps, he could see the bruises that were blossoming on his neck and the vast amounts of injuries. Kipps probably didn’t look too much better.

It was a moment of complete silence. Hampton was breathing raggedly; eyes crazed and smile wild. His eyes moved past Lockwood to Kipps and then back quickly. “Oh my,” he said. “look what you’ve done to my door. That is not a very guest-like thing to do.” 

Neither Kipps nor Lockwood said anything in response. Quill had a feeling that Lockwood was collecting energy before attacking, and he had no idea why Hampton hadn’t made a move. But when he opened his mouth, he knew he was prepared to gibe. 

“When I came to your agency, I didn’t know which one of you lot would be sent to _help_. I had my hopes, you know. I didn’t want that glasses-wearing fellow, I doubt I could fit my fingers around his neck,” Lockwood’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “but I was _hoping_ for one of those ladies. From the moment I saw them, I wondered how they would look as corpses.” 

The grin he produced was downright gut-churning. Lockwood’s cheek twitched, but his poise remained. Kipps respected that, sure, but he didn’t know how Lockwood could remain so calm while Hampton said that. Kipps was sure his face had contorted into anger. He had such anger, he wished to jump out and attack the man. That was probably Hampton’s goal. Attack in a blind rage and take Lockwood or Kipps down easily. Lockwood wasn’t falling for it, so Kipps followed suit, albeit with difficulty. 

“Continue what you were doing, Quill,” Lockwood advised, never taking his eyes off Hampton. 

Kipps didn’t like Lockwood taking on Hampton alone, especially in his state _and_ having lost to him already twice, but the odds were different. He had weighed them out before. Lockwood had his rapier, they were closer to escape than before, anyways. And Kipps needed to hurry before the adrenaline faded and he was left an exhausted mess. He went back to banging on the door, behind him he heard the ringing of rapiers making contact. It was hard to hear much through the noise on the door. He was elated when he made it through. It was only a small hole, but it was enough for him to fit his hands in and try to pull at the wood. 

He slammed his body against the door – causing severe pain in his shoulder, pulled and kicked, minding his injured knee. His hands were a bloody disaster and the hole had only gotten a little bigger. It was big enough he could fit his head and possibly one shoulder out into the night – definitely morning by now. It was probably between four or five am. He heard Hampton cry out in pain, followed by a series of thumps behind him. He forced himself not to look and continued to work. _Finally,_ the hole was big enough for them to squeeze through. 

“Lockwood!” Kipps called. 

Kipps rushed to Lockwood’s side, slamming into Hampton and knocking him off his feet. They hurried to the door, Kipps ushering Lockwood first. He was surprised when the boy didn’t tap into his self-righteous hero act and force Kipps to go first. Lockwood was out quickly; Hampton was up again. Kipps hurriedly pulled off his other shoe and chucked it at Norris Hampton. He was thankful for the impeccable aim, once in a lifetime as it landed in the center of his face. Two-for-two. Kipps pressed through the hole, just fitting, and receiving a few splinters from the jagged pieces of wood. Lockwood was struggling to get back on his feet, his energy beginning to wane – which wasn’t great. Kipps helped him up as they heard Hampton at the back. 

“It seems like he’s impenetrable,” Lockwood breathed. “what is it that you did to slow him down?” 

“I used my shoes,” Kipps responded promptly, a slight frown on his face. 

Lockwood gave him a blank expression as they moved briskly around the house. “Your shoes?” 

“Both of them, on separate occasions, actually.” 

“Well, I guess it does explain _that_ ,” Lockwood’s eyes dropped to Kipps’ shoeless feet, a small smile flickering across his face. 

The garden in the back reminded Kipps of a darker, drabber version of the garden at 35 Portland Row. It was overgrown and uglier, of course, the style was different as well. Kipps had been surprised that Hampton hadn’t shown up yet. He spared a glance back towards the door, grimacing when Hampton wasn’t there. He didn’t think that the man could fit through it, but he did have all the keys and any other ways to get through. But that particular door was still closed. Lockwood seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“He may attempt to cut us off. We need to devise a strategy. Any ideas?” Lockwood murmured, as they concealed themselves in a patch of shrubbery. 

“I was about to ask the same thing.” 

Lockwood had his rapier out, gripping it so hard his knuckles were white. His eyes flickered to-and-fro, a scowl creeping onto his face. Kipps suppressed grunts of effort as Lockwood leaned heavily on him, his leg giving him trouble. 

“This area is like confinement. There was something I noticed about our adversary back there. He appears to know the way that you and I act in combat, our tactics, and our movements. If I had to guess, I would say that he had studied it for quite a while,” Lockwood said. “also, do you notice anything about the surroundings? Such as the neighboring houses, for instance?” 

Kipps _had_ noticed when they had first arrived but hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. “They are all vacant.” 

“No witnesses. He’s injured both of our legs in the endeavor to slow us down. He’s had this planned for quite some time,” Lockwood concluded. 

“It’s like he’s hunting us.” 

“Precisely. We are the prey. Since running away is futile, knocking him out again is our best option. Seeing as you don’t have any shoes left, we’ll have to use mine,” Lockwood stated, a careless grin situated on his expression. 

Kipps rolled his eyes, an action which he regretted when his vision swam dizzyingly. With his free hand, he rubbed his forehead and licked his dry lips. There was a sudden twig snapping, Kipps felt Lockwood tense beside him as he did the same. Lockwood’s rapier was shoved into his hands. Kipps gave the boy a questioning look; Lockwood’s eyes showed everything. He pointed at Kipps and the rapier. Perhaps it was the concussion that Kipps was sure he had or the injuries they had both sustained, but he hadn’t thought properly earlier. He should have found something to restrain Hampton and then find a way out by collecting the man’s keys, but instead, he fled without doing any of the obvious. He had been trained for potential situations like this, but he had forgotten it in the heat of the moment, and he was kicking himself for it now. Truth be told, every time Kipps moved his eyeballs around, a nauseating feeling washed over him, and his sight went wonky, so maybe his brain wasn’t functioning quite right. If they could take Hampton on together, it would be ideal. Kipps wasn’t completely optimistic. 

Lockwood moved. Kipps hadn’t even seen Hampton. It was difficult to see much since they were in overgrowth and the only light was from the dim light by the broken door. Kipps could see the bout enough, though. Lockwood was aiming for where Kipps had taken a stab at him earlier, but it didn’t do much. As Lockwood had mentioned earlier, he seemed unbreakable. While he was preoccupied, Kipps took the opportunity and rushed forward with the rapier. _What_ kind of superhuman strength this man possessed, he didn’t know. Hampton had heard Kipps. In two swift movements, he kicked Lockwood’s legs out from under him, something he normally would have been able to evade, and shoved Kipps away. 

The world spun around Kipps, but he bounced right back up and attacked. _Get back up, Lockwood_ , he thought. He knew that he would, but it was taking far too long. Hampton was laughing now. Rapiers met, there was an exchange between Kipps and the lunatic. In a split second while Kipps' hand was down, Hampton pounced on top of him. Lockwood was midway up now. 

“I don’t tend to stray from strangling,” Hampton hummed. “but no one ever said I _couldn’t_ try something _new_.” 

The rapier was raised above his face. Kipps honestly thought he was going to have it plunged right through his eye and into his brain, then. He thought he would have died at the worst by a _ghost_ , not at the hands of a psychopath. At that moment, Lockwood was too far to stop Hampton. Over the blood rushing in his ears, he could hear his friend's hoarse shouting. He saw the tip approaching but then there was a bright light and Hampton’s weight was suddenly thrown off of him. It was so similar to earlier in the night, Kipps almost got a flashback. There was a shout and a thump. Kipps didn’t move, he just stared. He didn’t know if he could move if he wanted to anyway. His heart was still pounding wildly in his chest. 

“Is he out?” A familiar voice asked.

After a slur of cursing, a reply came, “Yes.”

Kipps finally blinked out of his shock of “wait, I’m _not_ going to die?” and recognized the voices. He moved to sit up, wincing slightly. Lockwood, who was still halfway up, suddenly collapsed onto the grass and coughed a few times. Lucy Carlyle, who had been the one who had spoken obscenities towards the unconscious man, rushed to Lockwood’s side. She pushed his hair away and gently brushed a few fingers along his neck. 

“Oh my…Lockwood…” 

Kipps deflated in a huge sigh of relief as Holly knelt beside him and inspected his head. 

“Not that I’m terribly upset you’re here, but why are you here?” Kipps wondered, realizing how tired his voice sounded. 

“It was George. After you two didn’t come back to Portland Row for a while, he went over the case and found oddities,” Holly replied. 

“Good thing I did, too,” George said, sitting near Lockwood. 

They had only gotten bits and pieces of background information for the case. Lockwood never cared too much about it, only in serious cases. Seeing as his company had been swamped and all his operatives were out tonight, there had been no time to go over background. Kipps vaguely remembered George saying there was something strange about it. He had gone to the Archives for one of his cases and picked up a few things about Lockwood’s case, but apparently, he pieced everything together tonight. 

“The neighborhood is—”

“Empty,” Kipps interrupted. 

“Yes. There was some kind of toxic spill near the area a while back, while this neighborhood was being built, it forced the new inhabitants out of their homes. There were a lot of coverups, supposedly the district is dangerous,” George scowled. “no one comes here, basically. Our driver seemed to know a good deal about it, he was hard-pressed to come here, afraid of the gases. Construction on this, the neighborhood, stopped and it became a dead area. Not literally, as there have been no recorded deaths here. The case was odd because _nothing_ of interest happened at this house. After all, it had just been built when that spill happened.”

“That explains the dull interior and all of the dust…the source didn’t belong either,” Kipps added, wincing as Holly moved his knee. 

“And another thing, your client, Norris Hampton, apparently died about fifteen years back. If anything was an indicator for something fishy, _that’s_ it.”

“What I don’t understand, is there were no other ghosts. He is a murderer, the strangler in the papers. If he truly has killed so many people, why aren’t there any ghosts?”

“It must have been at a different location,” Lockwood croaked. 

Kipps realized just how awful Lockwood sounded, Hampton had done quite a job on his vocal cords. He glanced at Hampton, unconscious next to him. That man stole the lives of so many people. From what the papers said, his targets were primarily young, ranging from twelve to twenty-four. That sickened Kipps. Everything that he did, he planned. He had planned for some of Lockwood and Co and its associates, such as Kipps. That meant he had watchedthem and stalked them. Kipps clamped his jaw shut tightly, and dropped his head into his hands, feeling utterly horrible. He didn’t want to stay in this place any longer.

“Hey, where are your shoes?” George wondered.

The events that transpired were foggy. Hampton was taken away by officials, and Kipps hoped he would never have to see him again. Medics came and took Lockwood and Kipps to the hospital. No one wanted to stay in the area too long, seeing as it was ostensibly unsafe. Kipps’ injuries weren’t enough to warrant a hospital stay, but he had a moderate to a severe concussion that needed monitoring, according to the doctors. Lucy had mentioned later that their equipment had been recovered, as well.

“I would have offered you a place to stay at my apartment, but I do have a roommate,” Holly stated as she helped Kipps into the Lockwood and Co headquarters. 

Preferably, Kipps would have gone back to his own apartment, but he didn’t have furniture fit for sleeping, besides his one bed, for someone to assist him with his concussion. So, he took up Lucy’s offer to stay at 35 Portland Row for the night, at least. They did have that extra bedroom, after all. Now, Lockwood had been sent home as well, given strict orders to stay off his feet and rest. George, Lucy, and Holly, of course, were on top of things. Lockwood’s leg was in bad condition, but surprisingly not broken. His ankle had suffered a sprain, but the rest of the leg was all lacerations and bruises. His neck was a black and blue mess. Bruises were dotted along Kipps shuddered every time he laid eyes on them. Swallowing and talking both seemed to be a chore for Lockwood. 

The latter was a blessing, in Kipps’ opinion.

* * *

Refreshment came a day later. The night of the incident was more of a morning endeavor, so Kipps and Lockwood both ended up sleeping most of the day afterward, only up for brief periods before they were ushered back to bed. He felt slightly bad; Holly had stayed as well, the comfort of her own bed lost so that she could take care of them. Kipps felt more energized, having slept off the exhaustion that preyed on him viciously earlier. Now that he had some awareness, he noticed that the bandages wrapped around his head itched, and the ones around his knee were beginning to get warm. He resisted the urge to scratch as Holly brought tea to the table. 

“These dressings are incredibly uncomfortable,” He grumbled. 

“No complaining. It’s for your own good. I hope I don’t see you picking at them,” Holly replied, one eyebrow raised as though she were about to give a lecture. 

“That’s right, no complaining Kipps. After all, we _did_ rescue you and your shoes,” George stated nonchalantly, with a pull of a relaxed smirk on his face.

“Oh yes, and who’s fault would that be, Cubbins? I wouldn’t have needed rescuing if you had done your research properly in the first place.” 

A short silence followed Kipps’ snap. “All right, that’s enough out of both of you,” Holly said, a scowl on her face. She sighed and rested her hands on her hips before casting a glance upwards. “Maybe I should check on Lucy and Lockwood. It’s time they both ate something. Behave, you two.” 

With that final warning, she walked out of the kitchen. Holly’s receding footsteps were the only sounds left in the kitchen. The awkward tension that hung in the air was ridiculously suffocating; Kipps huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, a sullen expression dwelling on his face as he glared at thin air. George had taken off his glasses and was rubbing the lenses on his shirt, appearance dull as ever. 

“Well, this is utterly thrilling,” Kipps declared, sarcasm dripping off every word. 

George lifted an eyebrow, regarding Kipps in quiet agreement. Both of them were relieved when Holly, Lucy, and Lockwood had decided upon that moment to make their entrance. He watched in amusement as Lockwood tried to walk on his own and failed miserably; no matter how much self-improvement or personality development Lockwood had gone through, he still had remnants of old character flaws, such as his stubbornness at times. He learned quickly, though. Holly and Lucy set up a chair for him at the table and pulled another for him to elevate his leg. Lucy collapsed in the chair next to Lockwood, looking worn out and exasperated. 

“Good morning, feeling better today?” George asked. 

“Yes. It’s a miracle what a good rest will do. Though, I must admit I wouldn’t have made such a swift recovery without Lucy,” Lockwood responded hoarsely, smiling at Lucy who seemed to appreciate the comment. 

“Thank you, but no sweet-talking can get you out of rest. You are not nearly close to being fully healed, Lockwood,” Lucy reminded him, resting her face on one hand. 

“Yes, well…” Lockwood turned his attention towards Kipps. “How are you feeling? Is your head any better?” 

Kipps nodded. He was having trouble focusing on anything but the harsh bruises on Lockwood’s neck. They stood out against his pale skin, blossomed like flowers in an array of various shades of black, blue and purple; some had become an unpleasant shade of green and yellow. Those bruises weren’t just skin deep, either, they affected how he spoke. Lockwood spoke quieter than usual, and his worse came out raspy as if he had overused his voice. It was apparent to anyone that the bruises had come from strong hands. Kipps wasn’t the only one staring. George was having a hard time looking away, as well, and Holly, who was standing behind Lockwood examined the contusions. Lucy seemed used to them. It made sense; she had been with him since they returned, but it was as if she were caught in a trance, like the rest of them. 

Kipps only just realized the silence that had fallen over the room. He blinked, and abruptly looked away from Lockwood with a feeling akin to embarrassment. Lockwood himself was sipping tea slowly, obviously aware of everyone watching him, but if he cared deeply, he didn’t show it. 

“Do they…does it hurt much?” Lucy finally asked. 

Lockwood placed his tea on the table and smiled. “It’s not too bad. Nothing much to fret over.” 

“ _Nothing much_?” George leaned on the table. “Dear goodness, Lockwood, have you looked in the mirror recently? Or perhaps heard yourself speak?” 

“Come now, George, it’s not as though it’s life-threatening. I’m breathing just fine, aren’t I?” 

“Lockwood, what if it were one of us?” Lucy asked. “How would you feel?” 

Lockwood hesitated. Kipps recognized the look in his eyes. He was remembering what Hampton had said, that night, about his wishes for Lucy or Holly. What would have happened if it were one of them? Both were resourceful, for sure. Lockwood would surely be fussing over Lucy if she were in the position Lockwood was in now. 

“You’re right, of course, Luce,” Lockwood said after a moment. 

“Anyways. I know you like adventure and all, Lockwood,” George said. “but maybe next time we always go over things. Even when we’re busy.” 

“‘Adventure’?” Lockwood questioned.

“Yes,” Kipps cut in, feeling the need to say something. “to avoid a crisis like this, check over all your references beforehand instead of diving straight into things like you normally seem to do. I don’t mind if you have a death wish, Tony, but you have subordinates and associates that would prefer to live.”

Lockwood’s eyes narrowed slightly at Kipps’ sudden hostility. Kipps, personally, didn’t know where it came from. It was, potentially, the events of the life and death situation catching up to him. The events that _could_ have been avoided, had Lockwood advised George to research into the case as he had wanted. He couldn’t help but feel a little bitter. 

* * *

Days later, Kipps found Lockwood sitting with Lucy in the living room. They were close to each other, shoulders touching and having some kind of hushed conversation. Lucy’s legs were crossed, her hand was on his. He rolled his eyes as he limped into the room, not minding horribly that he was interrupting a special moment. Honestly, he didn’t know why they denied their feelings for each other at this point, they were acting like little children.

“Sorry to disrupt a discussion that’s obviously between “just friends”, but if you don’t mind, I would like a word with Lockwood,” Kipps said. 

Lucy’s face flushed a ridiculous shade of red, and an undignified look crossed her face, while Lockwood tried to hide his embarrassment, obviously a little flustered. Kipps watched their reactions, significantly entertained. Lucy stood up, smiled at Lockwood and shot Kipps a venomous glare before exiting the room. 

“What do you want to talk about, Quill?” Lockwood asked, refined as ever. 

“I came to thank you.”

Lockwood’s smile remained intact, but his eyebrows fell, showing off his confusion. “For?” 

“Your resilience that night. I believe it’s what kept me going, personally. In perilous situations your composure drives your colleagues to move as well,” Kipps explained. 

“Oh,” Lockwood blinked. “thank you.” 

Kipps was sure that it was a little surprising for Lockwood to hear that from him, but Kipps felt it needed to be said. 

“Anthony,” Kipps continued, and at the use of his full name Lockwood’s eyebrow was suddenly drawn up. “your company works as a unit. Operating effectively without a part of that unit would be problematic if not unfeasible. Your company needs you, and frankly, you are reckless, and you are going to get yourself killed prematurely, I’m sure that you know that. Look around at what you have to live for and be more cautious. Understandably, accidents happen in this line of work, but you don’t have to be an absolute dolt all of the time just because of that fact.” 

Lockwood considered Kipps for a moment before nodding. “That’s sensible.”

“Oh yes, of course it is,” Kipps snapped, throwing his arms to his sides and sighing. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson. As much as it may seem like it, I don’t prefer to watch the life being strangled right out of you.”

Without another word, Kipps turned on his heels and strolled out of the room in an indignant sort of way, throwing his nose in the air as he did so, controlling the wince as he put weight on his knee. So be it if he were out of character for a moment. Lockwood could be an idiot. Lucy had been waiting by the entrance, Kipps didn’t stop to look at her. Her being there proved his point. He could stop being so selfish and think of others. He had thought that Lockwood learned his lesson during the whole situation with Marissa Fittes. On the brighter side of things, Kipps was glad that Lockwood was open with someone and wasn’t bottling his feelings up completely.

He knew that Lockwood was sharing bits and pieces of how he felt about the experience with his lady love, Lucy. Kipps was slightly disturbed by the experience, but he was more open than Lockwood. It was no problem.

Ah, yes. Kipps’ conclusion to the entire thing? He admired Lockwood, he thought of him as a friend, etcetera. Now that he wasn’t in a life or death situation, perhaps the next thing he would do to torment Lockwood was endlessly embarrass him and Lucy about their relationship until they finally fessed up. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story, I'm sure characters were slightly out of character, but that's to be expected from me, I have trouble capturing certain presonalities, lol. If you liked it, I would love to read a review!


End file.
